The Angel in Hell
by Wandering Child-132
Summary: When Erik escapes his distorted past, he seeks refuge beneath the Opera Populaire, where he begins his bloody reign as the Opera Ghost. He becomes guardian to the beautiful Christine Daae, whom he shares a mysterious, flaming desire with. But when the ghosts of his past return, he will do whatever it takes to avenge himself . He is and always will be-the Phantom of the Opera.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **well, I am very pleased to be updating my first fan-based story ever on this website. I hope you all enjoy it. As a warning, however, this story is filled with M and MA content. If you are too young or uncomfortable with such situations, please, do not go any further. I will try my best to give warning at the beginning of the chapter in the Author's Note as to the contents of the current chapter. This story will underline a few dark details, as I go into much of Erik's horrific past. I believe within the first eight chapters – perhaps less – he will find himself at the Opera Populaire. As a warning, however: I do – as I said – go into much of Erik's past. No M/MA content will be in this part of the story, but you will see the brutality of which Erik was treated. If you do not think you can handle this, either skip the first few chapters, or cease reading now. Overall, I am immensely pleased with my plot, and I am hopeful that all of you are as well.

I plan on making this a fairly long story, perhaps 40 or 50 chapters. I will try my best to complete this phic, as I have had some of my favorite phics left unfinished – which is simply frustrating! I apologize in advance for any future absence, but I will try to return and finish the story, as I said. In conclusion, thank you very much for dropping by to read my story. Feedback is welcome, and I would love to hear any ideas and opinions. Once again, thank you.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters or plots, and this story may consist of elements from Susan Kay's and Gaston Leroux's take on 'Phantom of the Opera'.

**~xXx~**

**All things wicked must stem from innocence**

**~xXx~**

**The Angel in Hell.**

**1.)** **A Fate Unlike Any Other**

Footsteps echoed through the hollowed stonewalls of the dimly lit Cathedral. Light from the rapidly dimming sun streamed in through the crystal, shaped windows. Three women made their ascent down the vast, candle-lit corridors towards the centre room. One woman, with tumbling blonde hair and wearing a plain white dress, held a small bundle in her arms. Her whole body trembled, as she stared down at her newborn child. Its face was deliberately covered by the bloodstained blanket it had been wrapped in hours before. On either side of her, the two midwives who had assisted the birth stood. One of them kept glancing toward the child, a terribly worried look upon her face. The other kept her eyes strictly forward, refusing to look at the mother or child.

Upon entering, a man came into view. He turned as the three women entered, and he smiled. He was an old man, with grey lining his mostly bald head. His blue eyes were glassy and soulful, and they smiled when his mouth did not. The old Priest gazed down from the wooden platform, his eyes fixed on the blonde woman in the centre. In his lightly accented voice, he spoke, directly to her, "Madeleine," Said he, his kind voice vibrating off the walls of the Cathedral. He noticed the small, covered bundle placed in her arms, and them met her eyes, "did all go well?" He asked innocently.

The young woman called Madeleine stepped forward, her voice failing her. She could not muster a sound. Her entire body ached from birthing earlier that evening. As the Priest took the child from her, her eyes lifted to the cross, large and resting upon the platform where the Priest stood.

Gingerly, the Priest lifted the bloodstained blanket from the child's face. Little green eyes met his, but he hardly noticed the child looking up at him. The Priest drew a breath, and his voice betrayed him. This child, looking as though spawn sent from Satan himself. Stretched over cheekbones was translucent skin, pulsing blue veins seen clearly on either side of the child's temples. One half of its lip was raised in a peculiar way, and where a nose should have been was instead a gaping whole. However, the strangest thing about this devilish-looking creature, was that the malformation only went over a half of his face. The hideous disfigurement ceased at the gaping whole of a nose. On the left side of his face, he was a perfectly normal-faced child. Handsome, in fact. At seeing it once more, Madeleine drew in a breath of disgust. The transition from beast to baby was so sudden and sharp it was almost inhuman. Something haunting at looking at this child chilled the Priest down to his bones. The Priest drew a breath, closing his eyes for a moment and muttering a prayer. Handing the child back to Madeleine, the Priest boldly looked Madeline into the eyes, and whispered, "His name, then?"

Madeleine looked up at the Priest, shocked, "What?"

"What is the boy's name, Madame?"

"Father, you wish for me to name such a beast?" Madeline cried.

"His life should falter by tomorrow, Father," Interjected one of the midwives. "This child – well, it is impossible for him to live, is it not?"

The Priest's gaze passed between the women, before at last resting upon Madeleine, "He is your child. You shall nurture him; name him. If he may die, you shall be sure that it is not at your hand."

Madeleine's lip curled in the disgust, tears lined her eyes, "Father, you cannot ask me to care for this child!"

"If you do not, it shall be you to suffer God's wrath," The Priest took the child from Madeleine once again. Uncovering its face, he gazed down at the child. "Perhaps such a child was not given to you as a punishment, but a blessing," he murmured thoughtfully.

"A blessing!" Cried Madeleine, her brow furrowing, "do you see him? This creature – this child of Lucifer – that I must call my own son. You think this is a blessing, Father? I hardly call this – "

"Blasphemy," The Priest interrupted gently. He looked down at the child, who returned the gaze, as though he were putting the Priest through a sort of unconditional analyzation. "Extraordinary," He whispered, completely disregarding an utterly baffled Madeleine at this moment, "Simply extraordinary." He turned back to Madeleine, "Despite his rather severe malformation, you must treat this child as you would any other of your children. To do otherwise would be a sin."

Madeleine nodded, tears caking her cheeks. Had she been cursed? How had she sinned so, neglected to be virtuous, to be punished with such a terrible fate? Such a face… such a monster she had conceived. And did God _love _this child? Surely not. No, Madeleine decided silently, this child was destined to rot in Hell's flames. Such a monster could not possibly bask in the light of Heaven. No, it was impossible.

"And what are you to name him?" The Priest's words startled Madeleine from her thoughts.

"N-name him?" Madeleine stuttered, staring at the disgusting sight of the child's face. She was to name this child? Not any name could match him, surely. Squandering in the thoughts, tears trickled down her cheeks, and she simply could not think of anything in her misery. Ashamedly, she told the Priest to simply name the child after himself.

"And so," The old Priest said, handing the newborn child back to Madeleine, "I present to you now, your son. Erik." His clear, ocean-like blue eyes move down to the child, "After all," he whispered, almost as though he was trying to speak to the child itself, "he could be a miracle yet."

**~{0o0}~ **

Erik grew extraordinarily.

Not only in his hideous malformation was he dissimilar from the rest of mankind, but his manor as well. The child was impossibly bright. By the time he was four years of age, he was reading the Bible clearly to his mother. Every once in a while, she would catch him attempting at the piano that was placed at the far corner of the parlor, and making a sort of strange, sweet music.

One evening, just as the fiery red sun kissed the mountaintops, Madeleine was writing in her journal. This was one of the nights where Erik was off with the Priest, reading from the Bible and receiving his teachings.

_April the Fourteenth._

_Erik continues to grow. He becomes more intelligent and aware of the world by each day. And with each day I find my despair growing. I simply despise the boy. It is impossible to describe in words. I recall how his darling father, Charles, held my swollen stomach with his heated palm, promising me I would conceive the most beautiful son there ever was. My poor, darling Charles died before the child was ever born, and I suppose he was spared. Never to set eyes on such a creature._

_The first time I ever set eyes on my son, I was utterly aghast. My voice failed me. Oh, no, words could not be uttered. Not from me, nor either of the midwives. We were all so silenced by disgust, so repulsed. Perhaps I am sinning for saying so, but I rather hoped the child would have died by the following morning. I continue to hope so. I persist in telling myself that tomorrow, tomorrow will be his last day here - he will rot in Hell and forever be banished from my life, which he has so cursed by ever being born. Oh, how he should have been stillborn!_

_I consider myself a faithful follower of Catholicism. But I must confess in my total disgust at hearing that I must nurture Erik, let him drink from my breast, soothe his cries. I know that it is my unspoken duty, being his mother, but I simply despise the child. He has fascinated me day after day, driven me mad with his love for me. Oh yes, he tells me he loves me. Not once have a muttered an identical reply. _

_With a face such as his, I decided to spare him such hatred. Obviously, the whole metropolis town was aware of his malformation - though few had seen it - but I had paid him one kindness. I made him a mask. He had told my time after time that it pains him, and I had seen myself that it punctured his skin. But I never wanted to see that revolting face again, not any more than was necessary. _

_It is still a mystery to me, how he came to have the face that he does. Charles was a terribly handsome man, and I consider myself a rather pretty little thing. I was very careful during my pregnancy; I hardly at all left my bed. The strange thing is, the normal half of Erik's face looks very much like Charles. Dazzling emerald eyes, and black hair. But the opposite side - oh! He looks just like a corpse! Oh yes, a living corpse, he is. A disgusting half-formed creature, meant to rot in Hell's flames, yet somehow roguishly sent to me, to condemn me to a forgotten fate. _

_My social status in the down is a complete downfall since the night of Erik's birth. Everyone in the town avoids me, if it entirely possible. Whenever I go to Mass the most I ever receive is a cold, dutiful nod in my direction. The only friend I have in the world is Marie Giry. She is a girl, about three years my elder, at twenty-three years of age. We met one morning in Mass, recently after she moved here. She did not seem to mind Erik's disgusting malformation, and I have found myself now completely relying on her companionship. _

_Oh, but I find myself rambling once more. Erik will be home almost any moment, and I am expecting Marie in less than an hour for supper. I will now say goodnight, and put an end to this entry. _

_~Madeleine Destler_

With the sudden snap shut of her journal, Madeleine returned it to its proper place on the bookshelf. At that moment, the door swung open. A particularly disheveled looking Erik entered.

"Why, Erik," cried Madeleine, "you look positively ghastly. How dare you enter looking as you do? Why, it looks as though you've walked straight through the forest. You know Mademoiselle Giry is to be here soon, go wash up immediately. Quickly, now."

Erik nodded but looked dazedly at his mother, "Mother," He whined, "I have not been home all day. May I please go to bed now?"

"Of course not, Mademoiselle Giry is expecting to see you. You do not wish to make her upset, do you?"

"No," Erik insisted quickly. He was rather fond of Marie. She treated him with acute kindness, more so than his mother ever had. "No, I wish to see her... But mother, I am so tired. You would have been proud of me. I read much of the Bible, Father Manstart even said - "

A figure behind Erik, tall and chubby looking, stepped into the shadowing light. Madeleine soon met the eyes of the Priest, Father Manstart. Immediately, Madeleine felt apprehension quicken the pace of her heartbeat. Father Manstart never came to the manor unannounced; often he merely watched Erik enter his home safely from the dimly lit street, and proceeded back towards the Cathedral. The fact that he had so pointedly shown up, especially after Erik's lessons, worried Madeleine greatly. His visit must have symbolized something sufficiently important.

"Silence now," Madeleine hushed her child irritably, her voice lined with an irksome scolding, "I do not have time for your foolish chatter. Now, go wash up while I change dress. Hurry, now."

Obediently, Erik dashed up the stairs. Once he entered the privy chamber, he removed his masked from his face and splashed cold water. He rubbed the water about his face. There was no looking glass in the privy chamber, as a matter-of-fact Erik had never seen his reflection.

Meanwhile, Madeleine kindly asked for Father Manstart to enter, and the two were now seated in the Parlor. With curiosity growing rapidly, Madeleine said, "if you will forgive me, Father, might I ask what is the meaning of your sudden visit?"

Father Manstart chuckled as though he were about to explain something quite simple to a small child, "I wished to speak with you about Erik."

"I had rather thought that," Madeleine replied quickly, as to not make herself sound a fool, "oh, what has he done now, Father? His foolish jests and tricks, I assure you, were not meant to spite the name of God. He is a child - "

"Oh," The old Priest interrupted, as though the realization of Madeleine's logical suggestions had just occurred to him, "no, my dear, it has nothing to do with that. Erik is rather to have at the Cathedral. Granted that he is not able to come during the daytime... oh, but forgive me. I do ramble so. I am an old man. But what I wanted to speak to you about... Erik. I'm sure by now you are well aware of his gifts."

Madeleine's brow furrowed, "Gifts? Whatever do you mean?"

Father Manstart peered at her, aghast, "you mean to tell me you are not aware of your son's... irregularities?"

"I do beg your pardon!" Madeleine cried, baffled.

Father Manstart hesitated, then spoke, "It was only today I realized. I had thought it he at an appropriate age to begin learning the Lord's songs. I had just beginning playing on my organ when - "

At that moment, a dainty knock came on the door. Madeleine stood, her arms tense at her sides, "that will be Marie, I am expecting her for supper."

"Then I shall leave you, Madame," Father Manstart answered, standing. He bowed his head, "I wish you a good evening. And I shall see you next morrow at Mass."

"Yes, Father, thank you," Madeleine said, relief flooding over her at Marie's superb timing. At this point, she wanted to hear nothing of her son. "I shall speak with you tomorrow," At this falsehood, Madeleine bit her lower lip.

It was at that moment Erik descended the steps. He now wore his nicer clothes, and his mask looked molded to his face as ever. He met the gentle, soft brown eyes of Marie Giry.

"Erik, why I do believe you've grown since last I saw you," Marie spoke warmly to him.

Erik smiles, his lips curling up just a bit too high.

"Erik has been reading more," Madeline said curtly. "Quite well, in fact."

Marie grinned, "Is that true, Erik? Do you like your studies?"

Erik nodded, "They're easy. But my favorite..." His voice immediately trailed off and he lowered his head.

Madeline shook her head; the child was impossible, "I'll go and fetch supper."

Marie nodded at Madeline as she left the room, the turned to Erik and tilted her head to the side, "Erik?" She crouched down to his height and gestured that he come forward. When they were eye-to-eye, Marie touched his arm, "what were you saying?"

"My favorite," Erik whispered to her, as though he were telling a great secret, "is composing."

"Composing?" Marie asked, "what ever do you mean?"

"I write, concertos. There," Erik pointed, "on the organ."

"No, no, dear, that" Marie pointed to the piano in the corner of the parlor, "is a piano. An organ is that great big instrument that is played at the Church."

Erik nodded, "yes, I play that. Father Manstart watches me. Whenever I play my songs, he gets a very strange look on his face."

Marie looked at Erik with concern, "he does, does he?"

"Oh, yes. But he lets me play. He says... He says I sound lovely." A massive grin broke out on Erik's face, "I've never been called lovely before. Do you think I'm lovely?"

Marie smiled a sad, sweet smile. This poor boy, "Oh, yes, Erik," She pulled him into an embrace, "I think you're so very, very lovely."

Madeline's voice rang out from the kitchen, "Supper is ready, Marie!"

"We're coming," Marie replied, and she stood. She offered her hand to Erik, "Come, Erik."

Erik took her hand and together they walked.

Marie watched Erik all evening, though he hardly spoke a word in the presence of his mother. It was as though she had trained him to act as though he hardly existed. He had never looked into a mirror. Erik didn't know he was...different. He didn't have any friends. What sort of life was that for a young boy? Still so innocent. He simply worshipped his mother, heeding every word she said. But Marie knew, with a tinge of grief flooding her, he would soon know the truth. He would learn to hate, as that is all he was treated with.

After all, it was his destiny. He was sent, spiraled down from the Lord into the wrong family, at the wrong time. The wrong circumstances.

"Madeline," Marie wiped the corners of her mouth before setting it back on the table, "May I speak to you in the parlor for a minute?"

"Of course," Madeline stood and the two walked into the other room.

Marie bit her lip, "Madeline. I do not approve of the way you are raising Erik."

Madeline raised her eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

"He's just a child. Yes, he is... different. But he's so innocent, so brilliant! If you would just take a moment to listen to him-"

"Marie, I appreciate your concern, but Erik is my son. I will raise him how I see fit."

"Have you even spoken to the boy? Perhaps his features are not developed, but his mind-"

"Not developed?" Madeline laughed, a cold, cruel sound. "The boy is a beast! A freak. A boy like that does not deserved to be listened to, nor will he be, not in this world."

Marie felt anger rushed over her, "Then perhaps, Madeline, the world is wrong."

"Whether it is wrong or not, it is the truth. Have you seen him? Have you seen what lies beneath the mask? A beast. A hideous, malformed monster. Somehow I was cursed to bring him into the world, to feed him and give him home, and as my duty as a Catholic, I do just that. I am not bound to love him." Madeline's brown eyes were determined.

Marie was dumbfounded. "How-how you can be so horribly blind, I cannot digest. God blessed you with that child!"

Madeline shook her head, "You're upset, Marie. I'm going to ask you to leave my home."

"What?"

"Leave, Marie. I will visit you tomorrow." Madeline's featured were sharpened and her voice laced with cold anger.

Marie could not speak nor move for a moment, but in a instant, pride consumed her and she turned, and promptly walked to the door. But just before she left, she said finally, "You think the boy is the monster, Madeline. Do you not know that the beast is in you?" With that, Marie Giry slammed the door and left.

_**~{0o0}~**_

"Why did Mademoiselle Giry leave, mother?" Erik stood in the doorway of the parlor, his porcelain mask falling off of his face.

"The mask-Erik, the mask!" Madeline watched as Erik fixed it on his face. She sighed, "Marie left because we had a bit of an argument. Nothing, really. She wasn't feeling too well."

"A fight?" Erik cocked his head to the side, "About what?"

"Curiosity is a rather disgusting feature in a young boy," Madeline replied sharply. "Learn to hold your tongue, or I shall be forced to do it for you."

Erik wondered what it would be like, if whenever he said something smart for his mother to grab hold of his tongue, but he decided against asking. "I do not mean to displease you so."

"Well."

"I am sorry mother. Please, please do not be cross with me."

Madeline sighed, "Well, I suppose I can forgive you. But you mustn't ask questions where it is not your place to know. Do you understand, Erik?" When her son nodded feebly, Madeline went on. "You do not understand Erik. I am not _cross_ with you. But I must show you the ways of the world."

Erik looked at her with wide, wondering eyes, "What is the world like, mama?"

"Tsk. The world is a very cruel place, Erik. It will hate you. You mustn't let anyone overpower you. Out there, they'll despise you, Erik. You must be prepared."

"But why? Why will they hate me? Is there something wrong with me?"

Madeline considered this. "Do you really want to know...?"

_No. _A voice somewhere inside her screamed, _no! Not now, do not do this to the boy now!_

"Oh, please mother! Please tell me."

A sudden hatred flooded over Madeline. This was the boy who destroyed her life! Why should she spare him? If he wanted to know, dammit, he would know! She ran quickly to her bedroom and fetched a small, handheld mirror off of her night table. When she ran back to Erik and violently ripped off his mask.

Shoving the mirror in his face, she screamed, "Here! See the beast you truly are!"

She did not see his reaction. It all moved far too quickly for that. All she knew was in a moment Erik had let out a horrible, piercing scream and the shattering of glass sounded. Blood began to seethe from Erik's fists and shards of what had once been the mirror we stuck inside him. Only then came the repercussions of what she had truly done.

"Erik, stop!" She picked him up, away from the broken mirror-away from his nightmare.

"A MONSTER!" He shrieked, fighting and kicking in her arms. "Kill it! Kill it!"

"ERIK NO!" She screamed, "ERIK THAT IS YOU!"

Suddenly, Erik went limp. She was faced with his deep, green eyes, full of question. "Wh-what did you say?" Erik asked, his voice was almost unrecognizable.

Madeline was hardly able to breathe, "That glass... it was a mirror. It shows you... it shows you yourself."

Erik was stunned. Tears welled in his eyes, "Wh-what does that mean? I...You...You look like... And I..." And suddenly, he was sobbing. He looked so grotesque, so revolting, Madeline looked away. "WHAT AM I?" She heard Erik scream over his sobs. And without a thought passing through her mind, she raised her hand and slapped Erik sharply across his face.

"Put your mask on," She said coldly. And Erik miserably obeyed, trying to swallow his sobs of despair. "Go to bed."

"B-B-But-"

"Do as you are told!"

Without another word, Erik ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Madeline heard him slam his door with all his might.

Madeline threw herself down on the chaise, finally catching her a breath. She covered her face with her arms, and began to sob.

_**~{0o0}~**_

"Erik...Erik..."

Erik stirred to the sound of his name being called, and a tapping on his window. He looked over and saw the face of Marie Giry staring in on him. He stood, feeling for his mask and placed it on. He opened his window, "Mademoiselle...?"

"Erik, come here."

"With you?"

"With me."

Erik took a step back as his memory came rushing back, "No, no stay away. I am a monster. St-stay away."

Marie gasped, "No! Erik you are beautiful."

"Liar!" Erik shouted.

"Oh, Erik, please be quiet." Marie whispered, "Please, I shall explain everything to you. But we must leave here. We must leave tonight." Marie's voice was laced with such total desperation that Erik was taken by surprise.

"Wh-why?"

"I shall explain everything, but not now. We haven't much time. You must leave with me. Oh, Erik, you are not happy here. I can help you. I...I can show you true happiness." Marie pleaded, "Dear, sweet, boy. Come with me. Leave this place, leave all the hurt behind."

"M-my mother-"

"We will return here. Just... not for a little while. I'm only taking you on an excursion. Doesn't that sound lovely? You and I. You can play me some of your songs. I can explain to you everything. I can teach you."

It sounded so wonderful. As though he could have a real life. With music and laughter. He wouldn't have to be so quiet, so lonely. He could have a friend...

_Leave the hurt behind. _

Erik climbed out the window with Marie, and the two descended to ground. Finally, Marie said, "Come, my carriage is just around the corner there."

"Where...where are we going?" Erik asked.

Marie ceased walking. She looked at this boy, this broken, sad boy. Condemned to an empty fate. She could save him. She could free him yet. She wrapped her arms around this sweet, distorted little boy, "Away, Erik. Away."


End file.
